


Ten Habits of the Highly Effective Father

by trapezoidscheme



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Dad Dennis, Dadnnis, Gen, but dad dennis is pretty cute okay, listen. i know we're all living in denial, the title is based off of that stupid book i had to read in middle school health class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trapezoidscheme/pseuds/trapezoidscheme
Summary: Dennis Reynolds moved to North Dakota to be a father to his son. Turns out, that's a lot harder than he originally assumed. He's not going to fuck this kid up, though. He's a good dad.This started as a Tumblr post I made a little while ago about Dennis screaming at the other moms when dropping Brian off at school... and then it got out of hand





	Ten Habits of the Highly Effective Father

**Author's Note:**

> This fic works if you assume the following:  
> -Dennis has survived these past 3 years in North Dakota  
> -Dennis told Mandy his real name and they dropped the "Junior" from Brian Jr's name because it was getting. so obnoxious to type "Jr" every time  
> -Brian is five years old

**Habit One: Road Rage**

“THERE IS A PICK-UP LANE AND A DROP-OFF LANE FOR A REASON, YOU FAT COW!!” Dennis bangs both hands on the steering wheel, lays on the horn for good measure. There's a vein bulging out of his neck and he briefly wonders how much more rage his body can withstand before he just collapses one day. “YOU CAN’T DROP OFF YOUR SHIT-HEAD KIDS IN THE PICK-UP LANE!! YOU BITCH!! YOU WHORE!! YOU ABSOLUTE--”

“Daddy?” a tiny voice floats up from the backseat.  _ Shit _ ,the kid. Right _. _ Brian looks positively terrified, clutching his stuffed animal as tight as he can and staring at Dennis with those wide eyes. 

Dennis does his best to rearrange his face into a more pleasing expression, gives his son a shaky smile through the rearview mirror, relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. 

“Don’t worry, Brian,” Dennis says. He tries for an easygoing chuckle. “Daddy was just explaining to those ladies out there that they’re bad at driving,” Dennis flounders, but the disbelief is all too clear in the kid’s eyes. “It’s how adults talk to each other!” he finally supplies.

Brian nods slowly, like he’s starting to get it, and Dennis lets out the breath he had  been holding. 

 

**Habit Two: Discipline**

“Dennis?” Mandy’s voice is tight. “Can you come in here?” 

The water shuts off and Dennis puts the last dish away before cautiously walking into the living room, drying his hands on a towel. Brian and Mandy are seated on the couch in the living room, a piece of paper between them. Mandy is biting her lip, obviously holding back a grin, but Brian doesn’t notice his mother’s amusement. He squirms in his seat, kicks his leg against the couch nervously and wrings his hands together, looking like he did something very wrong. 

“Brian, do you want to tell your father what you did?” Mandy manages, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle a grin. The corner of Dennis’s mouth quirks up and he kneels in front of Brian, makes eye contact with his son.

“I…” Brian’s voice is small, nervous.

“Speak up, it's okay,” Dennis says encouragingly, patting Brian’s shoulder.

“I called my teacher a fat cow.”

This is when Mandy loses control and breaks down in peals of uncontrollable laughter. Poor Brian bursts into tears, awaiting a punishment that isn’t coming. Dennis gathers his son into his arms and gives him a fierce hug, pride ballooning in his chest and catching in his throat.

Mandy can try to make this kid as nice as she can, but he’ll always have the Reynolds gene.

 

**Habit Three: Homesickness**

It’s been three months since he last talked to Dee. Three blessed, beautiful months without her nagging annoying bird voice in his ear. But he’s a little bit drunk, and the North Dakota winters are a little bit dark, and he misses his twin. A little bit.

Dennis stares at Dee’s number in his phone, finger hovering over the call button. This is just childish, he shouldn’t be worrying about calling his own sister-- she’ll be glad to hear his voice. The phone starts ringing. Once, twice, three times… Dennis is going to go crazy. That’s it, he’s going to die. And it’ll all be Dee’s fault!

“Yeah?” A voice startles him. Oh shit, Dee picked up.

“Dee? Dee?” Dennis tries to contain his glee, tries to take deep breaths.

“Dennis? Its two in the fucking morning, this better be urgent,” Dee says, and he can practically hear her pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. How dare she? She’s acting like it hasn’t been two years since they’ve last seen each other, like he never even left! Did she not miss him at all?

“Dennis?” He hears rustling, she’s probably getting up to pace while they talk. The rhythmic footfalls he hears next confirm his theory.

“Brian called his teacher a fat cow the other day, isn’t that cute?” He tries for normal conversation, fiddles with the buttons on his shirt nervously.

“Oh, Dennis…” Dee sighs, like she’s the one who is barely tolerating him, when really it’s the other way around. “You’re going to fuck this kid up beyond belief.”

“How dare you insinuate that-- you bitch! You bird bitch! You--” Dennis splutters, gripping the phone tight. He gathers himself, takes a deep breath. “I am a better father than Frank could ever HOPE to--”

“If you want to have a normal, adult conversation, call me at a normal time. Goodbye, Dennis,” Dee says, and the line goes dead before he can even retaliate. He throws the phone across the room with a shout, grips at his hair, paces the floor, mumbling something to himself about being a good father, he’s a  _ good father _ . 

The next series of events happens very quickly, and it goes like this: Dennis hears a noise, whirls around on his heel, and then there's a blinding burst of pain before everything goes black.

 

**Habit Four: Staying Calm in a Crisis**

When he comes to, there’s a throbbing in his left temple, and he groans and presses a hand to his face. He can hear Brian sniffling, somewhere, and… are they moving? Is he moving?

“Dennis, Dennis, are you awake? Oh God, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Mandy says frantically. Dennis opens his eyes and finds himself in the passenger seat of Mandy’s minivan, and they’re hurtling along the neighborhood at an irresponsibly fast pace.

“What’s going on…” He slurs, squinting at Mandy in the driver’s seat. The last thing he remembers is talking to Dee, and now Mandy is apologizing to him? 

“I hit you with a baseball bat, honey, do you not remember?” Shit. So that's what that was. “I thought you were a home intruder, you have to understand, you were making a lot of noise, I was just trying to protect our  _ son _ …” Mandy trails off, reaches a hand across the car to rest it on Dennis’s shoulder. 

“It’s fine, Mandy, I’m fine, you can-- you don’t have to--” What he wants to say is that she doesn’t have to take him to the hospital, but what really happens is that his head lolls and hits the window, which promptly causes him to lose consciousness again. 

“Is Daddy okay?” Brian asks from the back seat. There’s a wail building in the back of his throat, ready to be let loose the second his mother says something wrong. 

“He’s fine, sweetie, we’ll get him to the hospital and he’ll be fine,” Mandy says gently, but she presses down on the gas with a little more urgency.

 

**Habit Five: Sports?**

It's a couple months after the baseball bat debacle when Dennis takes Brian to the park, because that's what dads are supposed to do. If he’s being completely honest, he’s just basing his parenting off of doing whatever Mandy tells him to do and whatever Mac used to talk about wanting to do with his piss-poor excuse of a father. So, they’re at the park. Playing catch. And Dennis is miserable. 

“Daddy, are you having fun?” Brian asks, ever thoughtful, for some ungodly reason. Dennis doesn’t get it. He never gave a shit what Frank was doing or how he was feeling, even when he thought the man was his real father. What the hell could have Dennis possibly done to make the kid care so much about him? He decides to teach Brian that honesty is the best policy, so he shrugs and throws the ball back. 

“We can do something else, you know,” Brian suggests, but Dennis isn’t about to take orders from a kid. Brian throws the ball and Dennis fumbles, drops it, glares at Brian when the kid giggles loudly. It's too hot outside for this shit. No one can expect him to catch anything, not in this heat.

“It’s hot,” Dennis practically whines. He reaches back, throws the ball with some extra spin to it in hopes that Brian will drop it, too. Some good old-fashioned revenge would be sweet right now. The ball lands in Brian’s hands with a solid thwack and Dennis curses God. 

 

**Habit Six: Quitting While You’re Ahead**

“Daddy.” Brian furrows his little five-year-old brows at his father across the dinner table. Mandy snorts into her rice, but does otherwise nothing to help Dennis out, that bitch.

“Yes, Brian?” Dennis pushes his plate aside and gives his son his full attention. This better be good.

“Do you still smoke those ci-- ci--” Brian’s hands fold over each other as he searches for the word.

“Cigarettes?” Mandy supplies, giving Dennis a pointed look. That bitch!

“Yeah!” Brian is ecstatic for a minute before turning his attention back to his flustered father. This is absolutely not a conversation Dennis wants to have right now, especially not with Mandy looking at him like that. “Well, do you?”

“Well-- yes, honey, I do, sometimes, but that’s only because--”

“Daddy!” Brian’s face looks like he just found out that his father is dying. Maybe that wasn’t so off-base, honestly.

“Yes, Dennis, maybe smoking isn’t so good for your health,” Mandy says, gesturing to him with her fork. “You’ll get lung cancer, or, or--”

“Furry tongue! The lady on TV said you could get a furry tongue!” Brian bounces in his seat excitedly, as if this knowledge was going to help him get anywhere in life. Mandy grins.

“Or furry tongue.” she says, with another jab of her fork. 

“I-- I-- you--” Dennis splutters. Mandy and Brian both sit patiently. After three years of this, they’ve both learned to let Dennis gather his thoughts before interrupting. It’s a luxury he hasn’t quite gotten used to. 

“I’m very nervous, Brian, I get very nervous, and smoking helps, with… that.” Dennis gives a half-hearted smile. Brian’s expression is grave when he reaches a tiny hand across the table.

“Daddy. Give me your cig-retts,” he enunciates. Mandy snorts again, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Dennis sighs. Some battles just aren’t worth fighting.

“Here you go, kid.” A pack of cigarettes, surrender-flag white, makes its lonely way across the table. Brian grasps it, solemnly jumps out of his chair, and deposits the box, smokes and all, into the trash can. Mandy gives the kid a standing ovation and a smile tugs at the corner of Dennis’s mouth.

 

**Habit Seven: Giving Presents**

Brian is covered in hives and intermittently sneezing and crying, and Dennis is going to throw this kid out the window if he doesn’t get a handle on it. This is the exact moment that the front door opens and Dennis turns around, frozen, powerless now to whatever Mandy decides to do. 

“Oh my goodness, what have you done to Brian?” Mandy is across the room in an instant, scooping Brian up in her arms and fixing Dennis with an accusing glare. The culprit of the situation mirrors Brian, rests in Dennis’s arms, blinking lazily, tail twitching gently. 

“His name is Walter White and he’s here to stay,” Dennis says, grip tightening on the cat and chin raised in challenge. Walter White hisses at Mandy and Dennis looks down at him approvingly, falling more and more in love by the second. This might be the wisest purchase he has ever made.

“Dennis--” Mandy interrupts herself with a sneeze. “I want that goddamn cat out of my house by the time Brian and I get back.” She glares at Dennis through watery red eyes and sets Brian down gently. Walter White squirms out of Dennis’s arms and sprints past Brian into the kitchen, which sets the kid off on another round of wailing. Mandy crouches next to Brian and pulls him into a hug, glaring at Dennis over Brian’s shoulder. Dennis glares back, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to show that he and Walter White won’t go down without a fight.

Mandy disentangles herself from Brian, holds him at arm length. “How would you like to go to Applebee's while Daddy gets rid of the cat that’s making you so sick?” she asks brightly. Brian sniffles and nods enthusiastically. She stands up, grabs her purse, and walks Brian out the front door with a last warning look at Dennis.

“I’m not getting rid of the cat!” he yells after them.

“It better be gone!” Mandy yells back.

 

**Habit Eight: Bedtime Stories**

Dennis has never understood children’s literature, and he tells Brian so. 

“I mean, what's so fascinating about this disgusting duck? He’s ugly, but then all of a sudden he’s a gorgeous swan? Real life doesn’t work like that,” Dennis says. Brian sits up in bed, listening with rapt attention, and  _ The Ugly Duckling _ lies at his side, forgotten.

It’s Dennis’s night to babysit, because Mandy is out at a friend’s birthday party and couldn’t get a babysitter for Brian. North Dakota parties are stupid anyway, Dennis concurs. Definitely not enough obscure drugs. Besides, tonight was an excellent opportunity for a teachable father-son moment. 

“What book do  _ you _ have, then?” Brian asks. There’s a thick book resting on Dennis’s lap, a hardcover copy of what Dennis believes to be a classic.

“This, my son,” Dennis chuckles softly. “This, this is the first book in The Game of Thrones series. It’s called _ A Song of Ice and Fire _ .” There’s an imaginary fanfare that plays in Dennis’s head, but Brian just blinks at him, trying to make sense of the words his father has just said.

“Wha--”

“It’s about dragons, Brian!” Dennis leans forward, eyes bright. Brian lights up, claps his hands together in glee. See, Dennis is a good dad. Kids love dragons.

What kids  _ don’t _ love, however, is murder. Dennis figures this out twenty minutes into the book, when Brian is cowering under the blankets after Dennis’s voice hit a particularly low pitch. 

“Do you want me to stop reading?” Dennis asks carefully. The lump under the blankets that is Brian bobs up and down. An arm emerges from the blankets, holding  _ The Ugly Duckling _ . Dennis sighs, plucks the book out of his son’s hand, and begins to read. 

 

**Habit Nine: Infidelity**

“Well, Dennis, I don't know what I’m supposed to think!” Mandy throws her arms up in frustration as she paces the kitchen. Dennis doesn’t respond from his seat at the kitchen table, only stares straight ahead, thinking of anywhere else he could be right now. The beach. Yeah, that would be nice. Soft sand, warm sun, tequila shots… Mandy snaps her fingers in front of his nose and his chair lets out a disgusting screech against the tile when he rocks backward, startled. She shushes him, jabbing an accusing finger in the direction of Brian’s room. 

“Was she worth it, Dennis?” Mandy hisses. “Did she give you what you want?”

“He,” Dennis says quietly, avoiding Mandy’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” Mandy slowly settles herself into a chair, leans forward and glares at Dennis.

“It was--” Dennis swallows. “It was a he, not a she.” 

“A he--” Realization dawns on Mandy and she laughs, lets out one loud guffaw before containing herself, and her shoulders shake silently as she wipes away a tear of mirth. “Of course, of course it was--” Mandy grabs Dennis’s hand across the table, suddenly, forces him to look at her.

“What--”

“Dennis, if you’re gay--” Dennis pulls his hand back as if he’s been burned, sneers at Mandy as if he hasn’t just confessed to sleeping with another man.

“It was a mistake, okay, I’m not gay, you stupid bitch,” Dennis rambles, but Mandy tunes him out. She stands, brushes her hands together and sweeps out of the kitchen, breezily reminding Dennis where the spare linens are and that she still expects him to drive Brian to school tomorrow. 

 

**Habit Ten: Failing With Grace**

It’s after dinner the next night, under the fluorescent light of the kitchen after Brian has left the table, when Dennis finally speaks.

“Mandy, I--” he chokes up, rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Brian turns on the TV in the other room and it all seems so normal, like he can forget this ever happened and fall back into the old rhythm. Mandy scoots her chair closer, rubs his back silently, steels herself for what she knows is coming.

“I can’t stay here anymore,” Dennis says quietly, and Mandy nods.

“I know, Dennis, I know.” 

“I tried, Mandy, you know I--”

“I know.”

Dennis pulls himself out of his chair, begins walking mechanically over to his son, and Mandy follows with a sigh. 

“Brian, honey…” Dennis trails off as Brian tears his attention away from the cartoon. The TV laughs and flashes brightly, mocking them, but Dennis plasters on a bright smile and pushes on. “I’m taking a trip, okay? I’m going back to Philadelphia because my friends need help running their bar. Do you remember Philadelphia?” Brian shakes his head. Of course he wouldn’t remember, he was so little, it was so long ago. Brian wordlessly reaches out and Dennis scoops him into a hug, buries his face in soft blond hair. 

“When will you be back?” Brian asks suddenly. Dennis lets go of his son, stumbles backwards. Mandy stands in the door frame with her arms crossed, and he pushes past her in his rush to go pack his bags.

“He doesn’t know, sweetie,” Mandy says. 

Dennis Reynolds was never cut out to be a father. No one ever taught him how.

**Author's Note:**

> wham bam, turkey and angst  
> follow me on tumblr @mcpoylehateblog !!  
> thank you so so much to @macdennisreceipts on tumblr (northernangel on ao3) for beta-reading this for me ily ily !!


End file.
